Here We Are Again

Here we are again at that point in time in this particular part of the world where Nature steps back and puts a blank white canvas up on her easel. Sometimes without warning, our world goes from color, albeit muted, to solid white, leaving us to reminisce about how it looked not that long ago. We had an extended autumn this year, but winter was sure to make its appearance sooner or later, presenting us yet again with the challenge of finding something pleasant or pretty to look at.

Right now, it's snowing lightly, but the prediction is for it to become heavier as the day progresses before turning, as it so often does here, into sleet or freezing rain. What isn't actually white is gray, and any other color, be it that of a parked car or a pine tree's needles, is muted and bland in the absence of the defining sort of light the sun provides.

Snow not only dulls the landscape during its descent but also casts a hush over everything. Outside sounds are muted, less pronounced, as though the sharp whistle of the distant train is somehow caught up by the snowflakes and set down more gently upon our ears. Even the crow's cry is muffled as it lands to grab a slice of bread then takes to the sky once again to find a spot where it can enjoy the morsel undisturbed.

While astrological winter, which coincides with the solstice, does not officially arrive until next week, meteorological winter, the kind weather gurus rave about and which began on December first, has been in full swing for some time now, marked by some snow, high winds, and bitter subzero cold. Oh, and let's not forget the ice, without which it would really be winter in this part of Maine!

I just read a post on Facebook about folks in the northwestern U.S. who are dealing with an ice storm and power outages. I chuckled. That's a way of life here, and something we have all come to expect no matter how long we've called Maine home. Of course, it gets worse the farther north we go. But all things considered, the entire state suffers from one form of winter woe or another between the months of November and April, and sometimes even before and after those months!

So yes, here we are again at that point in time where winter weather has officially arrived and when even those who have had years of experience with it continue to complain. I must admit that some aspects of it are a bit much to deal with at times, and that get progressively worse as time goes by and winter's cumulative effects become tiresomely rote. I could live without the ice on walkways and roadways, but I must admit that it is stunning to wake up on a sunny morning after a storm and see every single tree branch and twig sparkling with it. I have also experienced rainy foggy mild sunless winters which just didn't feel right to me and which the word "blah" adequately described. But then, those speak of spring to me, and with each passing winter, we are that much closer to the season of rebirth. And wind...that's another story. Though I do enjoy hearing it howling and roaring of a winter's night, I cringe when day breaks and reveals to us an aftermath of downed trees and powerlines.

I also distinctly recall a few winters where it snowed so often and so much that even shoveling seemed an exercise in futility, for it seemed like I was moving the same snow from one place to another and back again. The worst, though, is having to clean my car off after each storm. So the less I have to do that, the better. Considering the fact, however, that I'm retired now, I am no longer in a very great rush to do that. And it's been my experience that, if I wait long enough, the sun will help that process along considerably once it comes out again and the air warms.

It's winter, when Nature's mood swings take chillier more tangible forms. For unlike after a spring or summer storm, a winter event leaves more evidence behind for us to deal with and either lament or marvel at. Being a Mainer, I suppose I will continue to do both. Once my car is cleaned off and I can relax, then I can indulge in the latter to my heart's content. And so far, Nature has never let me down on that score!

To read more Winter essays, as well as others dedicated to the other seasons, visit:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1530989876

More Blue Sky

A tree-trimming crew has been in the area cutting back growth that threatens the power lines. As I watched them here just on the edge of my property one day last week, I was amazed at how quickly the scenery changes with the removal of just a few saplings and shrubs, how more blue sky is let in, more light, more shadow.

One would think that, with all their layers of green upon green, these densely packed woods would be nothing more than a muddled mass of indistinct shapes, but that's not the case at all. Despite the tangled multitude of leaves, pine needles, branches and boughs, it's all a living breathing canvas of planes, surfaces, and textures, with distinct lines between each subtle hue and shape.

As an experiment, I selected a single low branch on an oak tree, and observed the small almost imperceptible differences between the leaves. While, at first glance, they all appeared to be carbon copies of each other, they were in actuality all quite distinct, each bearing its own unique qualities and coloring. Their position on the branch also contributed to the intensity of their appearance, as the topmost leaves blocked the light from reaching the lower ones, thus altering all the shades in between by infinitesimal degrees. I backed away a bit to test at one point if it would all become a blur, but it never did. Even from a much greater distance, each leaf stood clearly apart from its neighbors due to its slightly different position on the branch.

Air currents also manifest themselves in interesting ways in these woods. Whereas the trees and shrubs nearest to me often stand quite still, movement is seen through their branches as the more distant trees sway in the breeze, their leaves trembling at its touch. Yet the dense buffer zone created by the thicker stands of oaks and pines deflects this wind away from those trees that hold this place more closely in its embrace, the closest providing a framework of sorts through which I am able to catch a glimpse of something happening beyond.

The annual shedding of the pines is all but finished now, and a new carpet of reddish needles carpets the ground beneath them. But the deciduous trees, the oaks and maples and birches, have reached their fullness, which grows more pronounced with each passing year, and I cannot help but wonder at how so much perfection is arrived at so randomly and without any apparent plan. Nature seems not to worry much, if at all, about such things as boundaries and symmetry and neatness. Yet who can dispute the eclectic beauty of a tangle of tree branches overlaying a background of green moving shapes?

From the lowly forgotten shrub whose leaves lie flat beneath the more gossamer tufts of overhanging pine needles to the large leathery oak leaves that brush across my window, each of these woods' myriad shapes has a role to play, and each, I must say, plays it to perfection.

Bravo!


https://www.amazon.com/dp/1530989876